by Sara Alexi
‘You’re serious?’ she asks.
‘I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Please give me that chance. I have no ring to offer you, but that is just symbolism. My heart is yours.’ Surely she can see his sincerity; surely she must know the depths of his feelings. Otherwise what has just happened wouldn’t have happened. She must realise that.
She scrabbles for her dress and wriggles into it without standing up. She seems cross. But why? She feels the same. He knows she does.
‘Oh Loukas.’ Her voice is gruff with traces of anger. She is on her feet and moving. Scrabbling for his trousers, he stands too, and, jumping to get his feet down the leg holes, he struggles to get them on quickly. He is too slow. Ellie has slipped on her shoes and is running. His shoes are not so easy; the laces will not pull open. He watches her turn into the lane as he gets the first shoe on and, hopping, he tries to get the other one on and run after her at the same time. The pine needles stab at his feet. His toe hits a rock.
‘Agamisou!’ he hisses and falls back, sitting on the springy pine needles, and tears open the shoe, pulling it on. He is up, sees his shirt where he left it, darts back and grabs it and then he is running in earnest to catch up with her.
She is not in the lane. He pulls on his shirt as he is moving. Gravity speeds him to the village centre. She is not in the square. There are voices at Stella’s eatery. Maybe she is there. He can ask if they have seen her. If not, he will head to the hotel.
Gasping for breath, hand on knees, he stops in the doorway of the grill.
‘Loukas? What happened? Mitsos asks.
‘Have you seen Ellie, Mitsos? You know, the foreign girl…’
‘Yes, last night she was…’
‘No. I mean today. Just now?’
‘Calm yourself, my boy. You have lost her?’
‘I was just with her and…’
‘And how far can someone go? A stranger to the village has not so many choices. Relax, my friend. Have a beer. She will come back or you will find her, but I can guarantee one or the other will happen before nightfall. This is not a big place.’ With this, he puts the grill tongs down and opens the fridge door.
‘No, no beer. I just need to find her.’
‘Why? What’s happened? Is she in trouble? She shouldn’t be here without her husband. He should be here to take care of her. I told Stella…’ He does not finish his sentence.
‘What?’ Loukas straightens up, getting his breath back, a pain over his eyes. ‘I am talking about the English girl. You know, the girl who was here when I delivered the bread yesterday? Ellie.’
‘Yes.’ Mitsos takes a deep drink of the beer as Loukas tries to make sense of what is being said.
‘She is not married,’ Loukas states and watches Mitsos, who lowers the beer slowly, making sure he does not meet Loukas’ gaze. ‘Is she?’ Loukas is feeling ever so slightly sick.
‘Well, now I am not so sure. It is not for me to say really, but I was not aware that it was a secret. Stella is the one who spoke to her. By email, I mean. But I was given to understand that she was married to a teacher.’
He is going to be sick. His mouth seems to be producing salt; the glands at the back by his tongue pulsate. His stomach is turning. Mitsos puts down the beer and Loukas grabs at it and drinks deeply. The nausea subsides a little.
‘Loukas my friend, can I help? What is it?’ Mitsos’ kindness is ever near the surface, but Loukas runs. Across the square, he sees the old woman, his mother-in-law, coming out of the corner shop. She hails him and waves for him to stop but he has no time now. Pelting past the church, he ducks into the olive grove and heads along the line where olives meet orange trees. There is a smell of goat, but there is no one around. Past old Costas’ mud-brick barn, which is being renovated, the outside walls freshly plastered. Even in his manic rush, in some steady and quiet part of his mind, he recalls that once finished, it will be for rent. The trees pass in a blur. The blue of the sea shows between the trunks and then he is out into the forecourt of the hotel.
Now, which room would have the balcony she was sitting on last night? He dashes through reception.
‘Loukas?’ Sarah stands, puts the phone down, and comes from behind her desk but he is gone, down a dimly lit, air-conditioned, noise-muffled corridor.
All the doors look the same.
The swing doors behind him open. Sarah is following.
‘Which one is Ellie’s?’ Loukas demands.
‘What? What’s happened?’ Sarah is trotting towards him.
‘Which one?’
‘That one, but she is not there.’
Loukas stops, deflated. He has no idea where to try next.
‘Loukas, what is it?’ She follows him as he marches back to reception.
‘Where’s Stella?’
‘I think she is in the courtyard with Ellie.’
He knows it is rude to push past Sarah. She has done nothing, but she stands in the direction he needs to go. Three long strides and he swings into the courtyard.
Ellie has a hanky pressed to her eyes. Stella’s arm is around her. Sarah comes to a halt behind him.
‘You’re married!’ Loukas barks.
Ellie opens her mouth, takes a breath and wails like a child. Stella rubs her back, making hushing noises.
‘And you knew!’ he directs at Stella. He has never heard such venom in his voice. He does not recognise himself.
‘Loukas, no one tried to deceive you.’ Stella begins in Greek. ‘I only knew because I asked if she wanted a double room and she said…’
Loukas interrupts her. ‘She did.’ He points at Ellie. ‘She knows how I feel but she did not tell me,’ he replies in English. Ellie must hear every word of what he is suffering.
A guest, sitting in a wicker chair in the corner, folds his newspaper as noiselessly as he can and, standing, sidles around the courtyard to make his exit. He mutters ‘Sorry’ when his arms touches Loukas’ as he goes through the arch. Somewhere in a different part of Loukas’ brain, a part that has not been scrambled with his life being torn upside down, he makes a mental judgement that the guest must be English. Yes, the English, polite for the insignificant things and silent on the important ones. He slaps his hand on the side of his thigh. One minute his life is complete, his future holds promise, loneliness gone, and the next he is condemned back to making bread for in-laws of a wife he never truly loved, who he was married to for less than sixth months. Life cannot be that unfair. It just cannot.
Ellie does not look up at him. Her face remains in her handkerchief on her knee.
‘Loukas.’ Stella stands. ‘This is not the time and certainly not the place. Come, let us go to my office. We will have coffee. We can discuss.’ Again in Greek, as if that is going to help, as if that appeals to the finer side of him.
‘I don’t want coffee. Coffee is not the answer. She is the answer.’ He steadfastly keeps speaking English and points.
‘Then let us go and discuss how that is possible.’ Stella is calm.
‘I would not have unleashed my feelings without good reason to believe they were returned. I would not have even been sure that feelings were there without her direct encouragement.’ He cannot stop shouting. Stella has a hand on each of his arms. She is trying to turn him, away from Ellie, out of the courtyard.
He shakes her off.
‘Is that what you want, Ellie? For Stella to talk for you?’
Her head remains down.
‘Stella, I told you.’ Loukas addresses his friend. His rage feels as if it will explode out of him at any moment. ‘I told you how I felt and you said nothing.’
That’s it! He has had it with them all. All of them are lying and manipulating and secretive and they don’t care how much he has been hurt. Natasha may have not been fireworks but at least she was honest. The old woman may be grumpy and mean-spirited, but at least she speaks out and tells nothing but her truth, even if she is wrong.
But maybe she isn’t wrong. May
be her feelings about Stella are justified.
With the hardest look he can manage, he sneers at Ellie and sucks his teeth at Stella. Turning on his heels, he pushes pass Sarah again and strides to the front doors and disappears into the olive grove.
Ellie wails afresh.
‘Come, come on.’ Stella hooks Ellie under the arm and lifts her to her feet. Ellie complies; there is nothing else she can do. Stella leads her out of the courtyard and into the small conference room that is used for the Greek classes. It is the most soundproofed room Stella can think of, and she must think of her other guests even though her heart bleeds for the young couple. Ellie is leaning on her, sobbing, and Stella guides her to a chair. Sarah has followed them and shuts the door behind her.
‘Ellie, my dear,’ Sarah begins and finishes by putting her arm around her.
‘I told him, I told him what happened. He knows.’ Ellie’s words come between sobs.
The reception phone rings and Sarah rushes out.
Stella continues to hold Ellie, rock her, stroke her hair. Presently Sarah lets herself back in.
‘That was Mitsos,’ she whispers ‘He said that he thought Loukas was on his way here, that he seemed very upset. Mitsos said he wanted to tell you that he told Loukas that Ellie was married and that he was sorry. He didn’t know it was a secret.’
Stella rolls her eyes.
‘Ellie, did you actually tell Loukas you were married at any point?’ Stella asks as gently as she can.
‘Yes, no, not really, but I told him what happened in the store cupboard.’
Sarah looks at Stella, enquiry on her face. Stella shakes her head, lifts her shoulders and lets them drop.
‘But did you tell him that you are married?’ Stella asks.
‘No.’ Another wail. The reception bell rings and Sarah leaves them again. ‘I told him what was in my heart, Stella. I told him all the truths that felt real. The marriage is like a dream, there is no reality to it. We are in a village I don’t really know, with no friends and a man I hardly know who comes home to eat and then he goes back out, comes back, and falls asleep before I have brushed my teeth.’
From her own experience, Stella knows it is best to soothe, agree, and soothe some more. Sarah returns.
‘Come,’ Stella beckons her in. She would not admit it but she is beginning to struggle with the cultural differences between her and Ellie.
Ellie’s distress is bringing back memories of her own. As a married woman, she would never holiday alone, even in her first marriage. She did as was expected, kept up appearances. Even when things got as bad as they did between her and Stavros, she still caused no friction until the point when… She cannot think of that now. Sarah will understand more and her own children must be older than Ellie is now. Suddenly Stella’s bottom lip quivers.
‘There, there.’ Sarah squats by Ellie.
‘My marriage was a sham, to stop him getting the sack.’ Ellie snivels.
‘Oh my,’ Sarah says.
‘Her teacher,’ Stella explains.
‘Oh my god.’ Sarah’s hand goes to her mouth. ‘Oh you poor dear.’ Her arm is around Ellie. The reception phone rings, and it is Stella who rushes to answer it this time. When she returns, Ellie and Sarah have not moved.
‘Mitsos just rang again,’ Stella whispers. ‘He just saw Loukas go into the bakery, turn out the customers, and close the door on them.’
Ellie wails.
Stella and Sarah look at Ellie, who looks back up with tears running down her cheeks.
‘What! What? What does everyone want of me?’ She is crying hysterically. ‘What am I going to do?’
‘So you are back, are you?’ the old woman says. ‘Kicking customers out and hiding from the world. Kyria Maria from opposite the church saw you in town yesterday with your tramp, as if you were never married. Poor Natasha will turn in her grave.’
‘Hush, woman!’ the old man says. ‘Son, are you alright?’
‘The old woman was right: right about Stella, right about the foreign girl, and you were right about women. To hell with them all.’ His boots reverberate on the wooden steps as he stomps up to his room. The sound of his door slamming echoes through the building and a picture of Natasha’s grandmother shifts to hang at an angle.
Chapter 17
The thought of staying is intolerable. He called her a liar and a slut. Not in so many words, but near enough. She feels like a slut.
Sarah passes her another tissue. She blows her nose loudly and wonders how the body produces so much mucus so quickly. She wipes back and forth and throws the used paper in the bin Stella has provided.
Maybe the people back home were right. Maybe that is just who she is. A tramp! Maybe she should resign herself to it? Hasn’t she always felt different; haven’t her classmates always treated her as different? Maybe it’s true, maybe it is something genetic. If Father knows, that would explain his sermons to her, trying to keep her on the right track.
‘Oh God.’ She is not sure if she is calling on a deity or blaspheming but really, why should she care? If she is a slut then she might as well be a blasphemer, too. She is already condemned.
‘I am a slut,’ she mumbles. Stella looks at Sarah for a translation.
‘Er, I think… Poutana,’ Sarah whispers in a low voice.
‘Oh no Ellie. No, you must not say this.’
‘Ellie, you have met someone who you feel something for. This is not a crime,’ Sarah says.
‘It is a crime if you are already married,’ Ellie mutters. Sarah and Stella do not answer this and fresh tears roll down her face.
‘I am thinking that you are who you want to be, at all times,’ Stella says. This does nothing to make Ellie feel better, but Stella continues. ‘No, you see, we do what is true to our hearts, so if we want to be different, we must change our hearts. I am thinking your heart has changed since you met Loukas, so now you become someone different. This does not make you a poutana. Maybe you have just changed.’
‘I kind of understand what Stella is saying. It’s how you deal with that change that matters now, Ellie.’ Sarah rubs Ellie’s back, and she lifts her head. She has only been half-listening. If Father gets to know what has happened, part of him will be delighted to be proved right, at the chance for more lectures, pushing her to give in totally to his beliefs, become his puppet. Well, she will not give him the satisfaction. She will not give all those people at school or the press the satisfaction of being proved right. If she goes home now, they need never know about Loukas. There is no one to tell them. It can be as if it never happened and then there will be no ammunition to call her a slut again.
‘You make vows when you get married,’ Ellie sniffs. ‘For better, for worse. That means that no matter what, you stick with your vows, and to do anything else is what makes you a slut.’
‘I am not sure that is the whole picture,’ Sarah says tentatively after a silence.
‘I know it is.’ Ellie is emphatic. If she has been born different, if she has been born with this tendency, then she will fight it. This is not about Loukas, it is about deciding who she is willing to be. It is no different than studying to pass exams, giving up smoking, or maybe learning to play an instrument. It will take effort and perseverance and determination, but born that way or not, she will determine who she is.
‘I have made up my mind. I need to go home immediately.’ Ellie dries her eyes and wipes her nose, sniffs hard and sits up, composed.
‘For the record, I am not sure that I think it is a good idea,’ Sarah says and Stella nods in agreement. ‘If you go without seeing him again, without talking this through, working it out, you may never know if you did the right thing. Do you love your husband?’
Ellie shakes her head. She is quite sure now that she does not, nor ever did she, really, but that is not the point. It is the way she behaves that determines who she is, what she gives into and what she fights. She can see some of Father’s sermons now in a different light. She can almost underst
and them. Not that she wants him to be right; that is not what’s important. But whether she loves Marcus or not, she will do the right thing and no one will have the right to call her a tramp.
‘You know in your heart when something cannot be saved,’ Sarah says. ‘It took for my boys to grow and for me to endure years and years of loneliness and an eye-opening holiday here for me to realise. I just wish I had done it earlier.’
‘And I will not even “go there”, as you British say.’ Stella’s smile is genuine but sad.
‘But I have made a vow. I must stick with my promise.’ Ellie’s voice is clear and strong.
‘Being afraid to break my promise put me in misery for years,’ Stella says.
‘I just think going back would be the responsible thing to do.’ Ellie looks from one woman to the next. They raise their eyebrows and nod slightly but not convincingly.
‘Why?’ Stella asks.
‘Because the way I behave says who I am. Because I am far from home and it is easy to think that this can all be a daily reality, because I don’t really know Loukas. Because you just can’t up and leave one country and go and live in another.’ Ellie starts confidently but her voice wavers as she finishes speaking.
Sarah purses her lips.
‘Can and do,’ she says.
‘Because I am nineteen.’
‘That is closer to the truth perhaps,’ Stella says.
‘What do you mean?’ Ellie’s eyes widen, alert. Stella and Sarah take a seat around the conference room table. Ellie sits up and faces them.
‘How much have you done in your nineteen years?’ Stella asks.
Ellie shrugs. She has done nothing. Been to school, taken holidays to Morecambe, but other than that, she has never really left her hometown.
‘So how big does this step feel?’ Sarah’s voice is soft, kind.
‘Huge. Too big.’ Ellie holds a tissue expectantly to her eyes, but she is not crying now.
‘So that is why you feel you must be responsible and grown up. The other way is just too…’
